


Casino Beacon Hills

by RussianWitch



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - James Bond Fusion, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Anal Sex, Bondage, Canon-Typical Violence, Cock & Ball Torture, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Dirty Talk, Knotting, M/M, Rough Sex, Roughness, probably stuff I have forgotten, references to other pairings - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 11:46:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3289217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianWitch/pseuds/RussianWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter doesn't need this sh*t, he's juggling enough messes already. <br/>Only the Hunter seems to have a one track mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Casino Beacon Hills

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea why doing a James Bond fusion seemed to be a good idea.   
> But there it is...  
> Not beta'd

"Argent, Christopher Argent." Peter hears purred at someone on the far side of the roulette table. "And you are?" He should be heading for the nearest phone to warn Deucalion  having heard it, instead Peter signals the croupier for anther card. Eighteen in hand or not, he's feeling lucky.

Behind the roulette table Erica purrs something completely asinine at the agent, hunter, or whatever it is they call themselves these days making Peter wince in second hand embarrassment. A three lands on the felt in front of him and Peter inhales a nice big lungful of nicotine making a mental note to look into subtlety classes for Erica before she takes it into her head to the next willing male right there in the casino, possibly on one of the poker tables.  As enjoyable as that can be, after closing and without an audience, the casino is still high class and Peter is going to keep it that way even if it kills some of the employees. If Peter had wanted to run a strip club, he would have asked Deucalion for one.  Briefly he considers getting up to chase Erica away, but decides to celebrate the win instead since the girl is one of his best and the situation isn't that urgent. Savoring a win should always be done properly, even if it's just Blackjack. 

"Room for one more?" Argent unexpectedly asks from right behind him and Peter can't control the stiffening of his spine barely managing to cover it up by sitting up straight. Getting a grip on himself, he turns letting his eyes glow visibly even through the smoke as a warning to the human.

"There is always room, if you don't mind the squeeze." Peter gives the human credit: his heartbeat doesn't rise one iota, so either he'd been warned in advance or Argent has ice water in his veins.

"I've always enjoyed tight spaces." Peter is very happy he wasn't taking a drink upon hearing this line. "Especially when there is a chance that the results will be—explosive." He isn't sure if he'd managed to keep from spitting otherwise, as is he just wants to rip Argent's still beating heart out for that line. Oblivious to Peter's homicidal thoughts, Argent rests his hand on his shoulder for support as he slides his ass onto the only free stool at the table right between Peter and a purple-haired octogenarian with a mean streak whom Peter currently suspects of counting cards. 

The well trained croupier waits for Peter to signal that everyone is ready for another round and deals Argent in. The stakes on the table are high enough that the two hands they play are only accompanied by the noise of the casino bustling around them and the soft clicking of the chips getting stacked on the table. Peter doesn't win, but then he doesn't really have to: owning the joint does have its advantages.

The distance between them doesn't really matter, Peter could smell Argent across the room if he wanted too, but this close he can't avoid the distracting scent. Argent smells like leather and gunpowder despite wearing a tux like all the other patrons with just a hint of  wolfsbane  around the edges. Sending a man smelling like that among the wolves..., whomever is in charge of the hunter might as well send Red Riding Hood or possibly someone in a sheep suit.

Peter should definitely be giving Deucalion a call, especially because along with gunpowder Mr. Argent also smells of sex. Even with the bad lines, it's a combination Peter finds difficult to resist. He bows out on the next round tossing a couple of chips to the croupier for this trouble, then hightails it off the main floor. Consumed as they are with the thrill of chasing money, his customers often forget that the casi no  occupies a prime location looking out over the forests that surround what once was a sleepy town and now the new playground for the rich in the middle of the boonies. He slips out onto one of the balconies, snagging a glass of champagne along the way.

Out in the cool night air, he can breathe properly again and consider his options .

Deucalion isn't going to like hunters sniffing around one of his operations, even if it's the one that can care the most scrutiny due to Peter employing a lot of humans. They might be bothersome and weak, but humans aren't as quarrelsome as wolves would be when forced to deal with humans for twelve hour shifts at a time. The moon isn't full, thankfully, or Peter would be itching to get out of his lovely suit. If he doesn't manage to handle the situation quietly, former sentiment be damned: Deucalion is sure to have his hide.

Peter will always maintain only ever being amused by ending up thrown over for his own pup. Privately he isn't sure if he's offended by the slight, or happy with the additional freedom no longer being the Alpha's main squeeze provides. the opportunities he has now:  he's been waiting six years for. And now Argent has fucked them up possibly beyond recognition. Taking a swing of the champagne for the form, Peter regrets not grabbing some  wolfsbane  laced scotch. After all: champagne is for victories and Peter is far from there yet.

"Care for some company?" He spins around to see Argent leaning against the doorpost a bottle and two cut glasses in his hands. Peter has to give him points for the pretty pose: carefully none-threatening despite a grin  showing far too many teeth.

"Just clearing my head." Leaning against the guardrail Peter smiles politely and puts the champagne flute to the side just in case. For something to do, he pulls out his cigarette case ready to throw it at the hunter at the first sign of a threat.

"The casino gets lou d doesn't it? Must be hard on a wolf." Letting the door fall shut behind him, Argent steps out onto the balcony to set the glasses on the pillar  next to Peter while he's still trying to decide what game they are supposed to be playing. Peter hasn't hid what he is, but to mention it out loud...is just too forward.

"I've always known I would suffer for my passions." He shrugs  offering the content of the cigarette case to Argent for politeness sake. Instead of declining, or taking a cigarette Argent grabs him by the wrist instead raising Peter's arm up t examine the silver case itself.

"Don't we all." He purrs while Peter suddenly remembers that the this particular case is a trophy heirloom and supposedly taken off a hunter by one of his uncles...taken off an Argent hunter to be specific. Blackjack aside, it just doesn't seem to be Peter's night. It's the story of his life really: Murphy's law should be renamed. "But isn't it said that sharing misery usually alleviates it?" With a quick rub across the vein Peter's wrist is released, but Argent makes a gesture that indicates he's still interested in a cigarette so Peter pulls out two clamping both between his lips .

The hunter reaches for one of them but Peter pulls away lighting them both himself and inhaling theatrically before offering one of them to Argent with flashing eyes. The human just keeps grinning savagely as he inhales the smoke licking his lips after blowing it out into the sky. If Peter was stupid, he'd jump at the chance to skin his fangs into the throat being offered so blatantly, if he was smarter he'd be hightailing it to the nearest phone instead of mirroring Argent's stance.

"And? Do you have someone to suffer with?" Argent asks him, the words soft enough to be a whisper breathed out into his ear along with a cloud of warm smoke making Peter twitch. He turns to shake the ticklish sensation off and somehow Argent is far closer than Peter remembers him being.

"Mr. Argent—" Peter does his best damsel in distress imitation: a little breathless but defiant.

"Call me 'Chris'." Argent husks against Peter's lips a moment before he licks into Peter's mouth. The judges in the back of Peter's mind hold up 7ns for effort. He's seen smoother, he could teach a class on smother! But the kiss is nice: no power play, no aggression just lazy exploration and a bit of teasing. Quite refreshing, if Peter is honest. Somehow the cigarette in his hand disappears freeing him to wrap his arms around Argent's neck, so of course Peter has to dig his fingers into the guardrail  to avoid the temptation. Argent does no such thing: his, equally unoccupied hands, ghost along Peter's ribs. Possibly checking for a gun, like Peter would ever need or use one!

Annoyingly Argent tastes as good as he smells: expensive cognac, tobacco and adrenaline.  He hasn't been as meticulous when shaving as he could have been and the stubble scratches pleasantly against Peter's skin. Argent's wandering hands finally settle on Peter's ass: rubbing and squeezing as they pull Peter closer until their groins collide leaving them rocking against each other. It's pleasant, hot...and totally not on Peter's agenda!

It takes almost a Herculean effort, but Peter gets himself under control and pushes Argent away before things manage to get out of hand gratified to catch a brief flash of disappointment on the hunter's face.

"Really Mr. Argent!" The hunter licks his lips completely unrepentant as he devours Peter with his eyes. "I'm afraid we're not that kind of establishment! And even if we were, you couldn't afford me." He lets his claws enough that Argent can feel them against his chest through the holes they make in the expensive suit, but the annoying human just keeps smiling. Unlike the grin from before, the broad smile changes Argent's face: giving it more life in a way that makes the dark pit that exists where Peter's heart used to be once upon a time give a little twinge. Peter makes a mental note to find some anti-acid before bed, never mind that wolves never get heartburn: there is always a first time for everything.

"How do you know? I might be richer than you think." Argent has the balls to lean into Peter's hand leaving the wolf wondering if Argent expects him to retract his claws if he presses hard enough. As if Peter would ever back down to a human, even if he hadn't been fed up with backing down time after time already to keep his head attached to his shoulders that would never happen! "I suggest you go back inside, sir. I'm sure there is someone, perhaps at the bar, who will return your interest." He flexes his claw against vulnerable human skin to punctuate his words, then pulls it back fully intending to go back to his office and make the damn phone call...when Argent pulls him back his fingers digging into Pe ter's arm  and mouth claiming his for a kiss again. This kiss is different: hungrier, angrier, filthier cumulating in Argent's teeth sinking into Peter's bottom lip while pulling him closer. It leaves Peter wishing for a moment...

He doesn't even use a quarter of his strength when he drives his fist into Argent's stomach. The human is still thrown back against the guardrail doubled over, coughing and cursing. Peter tells himself that he isn't sorry in the least to have been forced to do that. He legs it before Argent can catch his breath, losing himself in being charming to playing customers on the main floor while trying to remember that Argent is the enemy.

The rest of the night drags on, while Peter ignores not having even come close to a phone.  Peter doesn't realize that the key to his suite is missing until he's standing in front of his unlocked door.

There is someone in his apartment, Peter can hear the sounds of occupation even through the soundproofed door. Silent as a ghost he stalks through the door claws out and fully intending to rip the intruder's throat out as soon as he finds him or her. The sounds of a running shower draw him out of the living room, through the bedroom towards the reason Peter lives at the casino instead a nice isolated house somewhere in the woods.

Rounding the door to the spacious bathroom, and freezes as conflicting signals rage through his body at the sight before his eyes. Steam filling the room obscuring a lot from sight, but through the clouds Peter catches glimpses of bare skin and hard muscle glistening with water and soap. His eyes follow the long muscles of a broad back down to a tight ass that under normal circumstances would have Peter on his knees worshiping it already.

Reminding himself that these are not normal circumstances, Peter takes a deep breath and then another than steps forward to find out  why Christopher fucking Argent has broken into Peter's den to take a damn shower. As if oblivious to his presence, Argent leans forward bracing against the shower wall and stretches  sliding his hands upwards along the cold tile hollowing his back until Peter can see water pooling in the hollow just above Argent's thrust out ass. The scent of arousal assaults his senses even before he catches sight of the human's dick firming between the man's legs.

"Should I get ready to be dragged out by security? Or are you join ing me?" Argent sounds...impatient, like Peter is the one not following the generally acceptable script for this situation. Removing a body would mean waiting for the cleaning staff to get done with the bathroom before Peter can go to sleep and paying bribes something he doesn't feel like at the moment. Giving up, Peter makes himself comfortable against the door frame and enjoys the show.

"Didn't we have this conversation already?" He laments. "Besides, a girl likes to be asked." And Peter  has had more than enough of people assuming that he'll do as they want anyway. He wonders what Argent expects to happen next? For him to be overwhelmed by the admittedly pretty sight of Argent's bare ass? He could probably fake a decent swoon in a pinch...

"I thought I asked already." Argent turns around leaning against the cool tile with a delightful shudder while presenting Peter with a proper view of his front. The human's dick is rosy and interested leaving Peter to wonder if Argent is an exhibitionist.

"Not that I'd noticed." He mirrors the stance, unbuttoning his suit jacket and spreading his legs just enough that when he thrusts his hips out just a little the bulge of his dick is clearly visible through the fabric. "Besides, you're in the wrong shower: I'm just a simple casino proprietor." He fishes out the nth cigarette of the night and light up despite the humidity to keep his hands busy. After all, clutching the cigarette is far better than reaching out to rake his fingers through the smattering of fur that covers Argent's chest and abdomen.

Argent snorts rudely and when Peter raises a brow in question clarifies. "Simple my ass!"  Rolling his eyes, the man finally pushes off the wall and steps out of Peter's shower. Argent catches Peter's wrist again guiding his hand up to take a drag off the cigarette leaving his taste behind for Peter to explore when the use of his hand returns to him.

"As simple as they come—" It's not like revenge and wanting security in life are that complicated motivations. Peter has spend his life searching for one or the other:  elaborate schemes aside,  Peter is as see through as a glass pane.

"Is it so difficult to believe that my motivations are transparent as well?" Ar gent questions leaning in to nuzzle at Peter's jaw, water dripping off his face damaging Peter's suit beyond repair.

"Difficult? No." Peter concedes with a hiss. "Except that I know who you are, Mr. Argent!" Not in the mood for games, for once, he grabs the naked man by the throat to keep him from pulling away. Fangs out, Peter takes Argent's mouth barely careful enough to keep from slicing the man's lips open.

He doesn't bother to hide his strength, lifting the hunter up he turns slamming Argent's back against the wall. Argent tries to fight, but Peter catches his arms pinning them above the human's head. Peter feels water soaking into his trousers and shirt: h is tailor is going to kill him, they'll never mind the body... He takes a drag from the cigarette, they miraculously haven't crushed in the struggle studying his prisoner. Pinned down, Argent looks stoned: his mouth hangs open and his eyes look glazed, his dick thick and hard between them.

Peter has always been bad as resisting temptation: the temptation Argent's lips and then of the hunter's tanned skin. Argent groans: more of a vibration deep in his throat and less of a sound, but doesn't struggle against Peter's iron grasp. Emboldene d by the permission, Peter pushes closer grinding his crotch against the wet, bare body resigning himself to bribing his tailor into talking to him again later.

The sound  that Argent makes when the soft wool of Peter's trou sers rubs against the human's dick is  something between a growl and whine, Peter wants to hear more of it. He forces Argent's thighs wider grinding their crotches together until Argent sobs for him.

"N o den ials?" He prompts digging his hands into Argent's ass. "No assurances that you won't hurt me?  No attempt to have me to the 'right thing'. " He grinds his dick onto the seem between Argent's thigh and torso enjoying the lust dazed look in the hunter's pale blue eyes.

"I know who you are too." Argent manages to growl bucking into Peter's grasp.

"Good." Stepping away, Peter shakes Argent off allowing him to stand on his own feet again. Clamping the cigarette between his teeth, Peter frees up a hand to wrap around Argent's dick. The hot, slick flesh throbs in his grasp, he tightens his hold slowly increasing pressure until Argent gasps in pain. Not that Argent even tries to get away from the painful grip, and even with the scent of tobacco surrounding them Peter doesn't miss the scent of fresh pre-come even before he feels it seeping across his fingers.

"Such a mess slut." He concludes, wrinkling his nose in annoyance. "You owe me a new suit, Mr. Ar gent." Peter rebukes, letting his claws pop and running them across sensitive flesh then down to cup Argent's balls not so gently. "And we’ll have to see about keeping you from making a bigger mess." He watches Argent struggle not to lean into the threat of pain, to swallow the requests for more that are clearly on the tip of his tongue.

Watching Argent squirm, Peter curses his circumstances yet again :  the human is too damn likable, too much to Peter's taste for him to stay clearheaded. Unfortunately none of Peter's impulses are suitable for the bathroom,  so Peter has no choice but to force Argent's arms behind the hunter's back and drag him out into the bedroom.

Argent doesn't struggle when Peter cuffs his hands after throwing him on the bed. When Peter rolls the hunter onto his back the human looks up at him with needy eyes, far too relaxed for the situation he is in. The hunter's calm annoys Peter, he climbs up Argent's body to make himself comfortable on the human's stomach contemplating all the ways he can use to elicit  a response from his overly willing victim. Knocking the ash off the cigarette onto Argent's chest delighted to hear a swallowed growl and curse his muscles tensing under Peter's thighs to keep from struggling.

"I'm going to take the break-in and the de struction of my suit out of your hide!" He promises pulling loose his butterfly tie. Dragging the bit of silk off his neck, Peter examines it a delightful idea dawning that has him twisting around to take hold of Argent's dick again. He drag the slick bit of fabric across Argent's damp flesh and watches it twitch, the tie is long enough that Peter can wind  it quite elaborately around Argent's dick and balls before tying it off leaving his victim unable to come but leaking steadily. "Still so wet, I'm starting to suspect that I'll have to plug you up to keep you from making a complete mess of my bed." Peter muses turning back to study Argent's face, smiling when Argent moans brokenly at the threat. "Would you like that hunter? I could fuck the slit of your dick with a  plug like I'm going to fuck your ass and your mouth." 

Peter has to wonder why anyone would send an agent his way who sinks into submission like he was born for it. Argent stinks of lust and need, no fear to be found only anticipation of further pleasure or pain. Annoyingly he has to remind himself that he is n't that lucky  and never will be.  Whatever Argent is playing at, all Peter can do is play along and pay attention so that when Argent decides to strike: he will be ready. And until then, Peter is going to enjoy every second of taking the hunter apart.

"Cat got your tongue, hunter?" He leans down, licking messily across Argent's open lips and finally gets a reaction when Argent sinks his teeth into Peter's bottom lip.

"Something did." Argent growls bucking under Peter for the first time , finally fighting against the wolf's grasp. Peter backhands him  lightly until Argent stills again and Peter can go back to biting and licking at the hunter's lips. He makes it a point of sucking and nipping on Argent's tongue just on principle. When Argent is nice and dazed again, Peter finally slides off his chest to explore the rest of the body. 

For a human Argent is in very good shape, he doesn't mind when Peter gets a bit rough  squeezing the hunter's  balls until Argent howls, the n sucking his still hard dick until he's on the very edge where Peter leaves him hanging. Argent whines as if he's in agony, and Peter supposes the human might be with the scrap of fabric preventing him from release. 

"Hands and knees handsome!" He finally orders leaving a handprint on Argent's hip, well more like shoulders and knees with his hands cuffed behind his back. Not that Argent seems to mind: he gets into position with some effort then spreads his legs wide without Peter having to order  presenting his ass, balls and cock for whatever torment Peter cares to unleash on the delicate organs.

Peter feels vicious enough to use the belt, leave bloody stripes on golden skin of ass and thighs. Only the urge to feel said skin under his hands stops him from pulling the braided leather from its loops. He doubts that Argent would object even if he did decide to whip him raw. As needy as the Hunter smells, he'll be more than eager for the pain. Fortunately Peter can give him that without using any tools: werewolf strength is all that's needed to turn Argent's ass and thigh s  bright red and throbbing with the promise of deep tissue bruises in the morning. Peter is somewhat more merciful while working over Argent's balls: pinching and squeezing, tapping lightly and scratching along the sensitized skin until Argent is sobbing into the sheets. 

Out of his mind with sensation Argent is tru ly  a sight to behold. Peter manhandles the human onto his back loving how Argent moans when his damaged ass comes in contact with the silk sheets. He doesn't bother to do much to prepare the Hunter for penetration, just shoves a couple of slick fingers in to make room for himself as Argent bites his lips to swallow groans of discomfort.

He doesn't quite remember how he frees himself from his pants and enters Argent, everything goes red and hazy for a while. When Peter can handle human concepts again he's balls deep in the Hunter who's screaming for him as Peter fucks him with bruising force. Argent is going to be a mess, if he even manages to crawl out of Peter's bed by morning. He's going to have Peter's all over his body for weeks reminding him how he gave himself over to a wolf to be used. Something makes Peter certain that Argent won't mind a bit. He presses Argent into the mattress, blankets the Hunter with his body pleasantly surprised when Argent wraps his legs around his waist. 

Somehow, something changes as they feed on each other's mouths, Peter finds himself slow ing down, gripping to hold instead of hurt  as Argent arches up into his touch. Argent whines into the kiss and Peter remembers that he's made sure that he's bound more that the Hunter's hands. Untangling his hands from Argent's short hair with reluctance, Peter finds the silk by feel slick and soaked with sweat and pre-come, his claws make short work of it with Argent's tortured scream as his reward. The accompanying tightening of Argent's body sends Peter over the edge he shoves himself deep into the Hunter's body howling when his knot is caught and help by Argent's hungry passage. 

Peter slumps onto the hard body under him, dizzy from the power of his release until a heel prods his ass reminding him that he isn't alone and Argent might like to come as well as a reward for being so accommodating. Reaching between their bodies he finds the hard, slick dick prodding him in the abdomen stroking it until Argent gasps his release and practically passes out much to Peter's delight. Eventually Peter manages to gather enough brain cells to shake Argent's legs off, then roll them over so the Hunter is no longer lying on his arms.

Fascinated with the calm with which Argents accepts them being locked together, Peter reaches down to trace a finger along the struggling rim of the Hunter's ass. The muscle bulges outwards, flutters from the strain of keeping Peter inside, he teases across the muscle until they are both moaning and shuddering. "I should kill you, you know." Peter finally sighs guiding Argent's head onto his shoulder and clawing for a sheet. 

"But you won't." Argent sounds too certain of himself for someone who's cuffed and has a wolf dick stuck up his ass. 

"Maybe in the morning, after I fuck you again." Peter decides, deciding not to bother with looking for the key to the cuffs and pulls them apart with minimal effort. Argent stretches his arms carefully, then wraps them around Peter's head mussing up his hair. 

"After you fuck me?" Argent  murmurs into Peter's throat, limp, warm and far too comfortable for Peter's comfort .

"I loath wasting such an accommodating ass." He sneers and pretends that the soft tremors that rake Argent's body are from fear and not from the man's silent laughter.


End file.
